


Dust and Life

by Oparu



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 07:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4597608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melinda protects Phil, but she can't save his suit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust and Life

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Philinda Bad Days challenge.

Dried blood crunches and turns to dust. It falls like iron sand. He shouldn't play with his jacket. It's ruined, and no amount of running it through his hands will save it. He doesn't have anything else to do. Jemma and Bobbi haven't finished stitching Melinda wounds and stopping the bleeding from the nasty slashes on her back.

His fault. He moved too slowly, and Melinda did what she does and got in the way. Lance shot the assassin, or maybe Mack did. He didn't pay much attention after Melinda collapsed against him, bleeding into his arms. He'd held her tight to his chest the whole ride back. Even with thick emergency bandages on her back, she'd bled. She'd held to consciousness for a long time, listening to him talk about nothing. Then she'd faded. He'd tried not to panic, because unconsciousness was likely, and not necessarily a bad sign, but Bobbi and Jemma took her so quickly when they landed and he'd just stood there, while her blood dried.

He should have taken it off faster, tried to save it, but he hadn't thought about anything but her. Which was why he sat here now, shaking her blood like dirt from his clothes. He should shower. He should burn his suit, even though it had been his favorite. It's useless now. He doesn't want to leave, because he can't miss something while he's changing clothes. He's not sure what he'll miss, but he needs to be here, in this chair.

So the blood continues to fall, like dust from dead stars, because he can't stop fidgeting. Bobbi makes him leave, eventually, because Melinda's asleep and she won't be awake until later that afternoon. He cries in the shower, where no one sees his tears because he's just so tired. IT was an easy mission, but with Hydra and SHIELD still on the tentative legs of its rebirth, more people want him dead than alive.

And Melinda saved him, again, without a thought. So it's another bad day in a long list, but he can't stop thinking about her and the heat of her blood against his chest. He tried to save her, tried to hold her tight enough that the blood would stop. He sleeps, but his dreams scare him awake. Twice.

He falls asleep waiting for her to wake up, and it's an irony she notices, of course. Her hand runs over his hair, and the skin where his hair's receding.

"I remember you with more," she teases, her voice dry and weary. There's plenty of smile in her eyes.

"I had more, once," he replies, taking her free hand and holding it tight. He kisses her fingers, because he needs to, because he has to taste her.

Melinda strokes his cheek with a cool finger. "You did."

Her eyes shut for a moment, and she's lying on her stomach because the cuts on her back were so bad. He just wants to bury his hand in her hair and lie next to her; sleep where his dreams will be quiet.

"Phil?"

He pulls his chair closer. "Yeah?"

"Your blue suit?"

"Didn't make it," he answers, giving in and lowering his head next to hers. He can't leave, but she's letting him stay.

"That's a pity," she murmurs. "I liked that one."

"Me too." Her hand runs slowly over his head again, and knowing she's safe, this time he sleeps.


End file.
